SF

More Alien intrigue as the one faction of aliens controls the populists.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Grrndakegra sat back with a satisfied glow, deep blue with pleasure. It could not have gone better. Just twenty paid provocateurs could create so much trouble. Just twenty. Who would have believed that?

This entire operation, from the renting of the traffic exchange platforms to raise the profile of Billy’s podcasts to the arranging of transport and staging, had gone remarkably smoothly. Just as she had planned it? But the greatest success was the arranging of the counter demo and hire of those twenty thugs. Without those rocks being hurled this might have all melted away into insignificance. Now they had hard evidence of extreme Hydran violence and not only that, they had publicity to build on for future demos.

What could be better? That satisfied glow came from the sense of a job well done.

Beheggakegri called an emergency meeting of UFOR. Not because there was an emergency but because he’d spotted an opening. He wanted to call an end to the Hydran experiment as soon as possible, get them eradicated and bundle off that drangling Commander Chameakegra and her sycophantic Judge Booghramakegra into the obscurity of deep space for ever. He wanted rid. He did not want to have to think about them and their annoying ways ever again. He wanted his life back. He wanted to eat and relax.

The Hydran protest violence looked ugly. Grrndakegra had certainly done a great job there. This could be just what was required. Surely the committee would agree now?

He heaved himself into his extra-large luxopexi and turned the antigrav up full so that he felt comfortable. Once suitably ensconced he gave his committee a withering glare just so they knew who was boss.

‘The evidence is here for all to see,’ he growled, daring anyone to challenge him. With that he flicked the tridee into action and they watched the scenes of violence unfurl – the vicious blows between demonstrators and counter demonstrators outside the Clacton detainment centre – heads being broken, blood flowing, missiles raining down  – Hydrans being knocked to the ground, beaten and booted senseless. The scenes were graphic. The violence horrible. They had been stitched together to represent the incident at its very worst. Beheggakegri had been delighted with the gory result.

When the sequence had finished Beheggakegri sat back and glared around at his assembled committee. ‘These are the vermin that Commander Chameakegra and Judge Booghramakegra want to admit to the Federation. They claim that these Hydrans’, he spat the word as if it left a disgusting taste in his mouth, ‘are worthy for enrolment.’

Nobody spoke.

‘This is the rabble who are left after we removed all the worst elements,’ Beheggakegri continued disdainfully. ‘They claim that violence is not endemic to their DNA,’ he gestured towards where the last frame of the tridee footage, showing a woman receiving a horrific violent kick to the face while lying prone on the ground, ‘this tells me otherwise.’

Beheggakegri’s eyes roved over the assembled committee, searching for anyone who would dare speak. ‘I say that we end this senseless experiment right now. Save ourselves a lot of time and effort and complete the job. The process has been tried and tested. It has protected the Federation for hundreds of years. We do not need to take risks by introducing these vermin to contaminate our system. Let us end this nonsense once and for all.’

He was about to take a quick vote and wrap things up when Debo, the Arker, raised her furry hand. Her gibbon-like face registered a slight nervousness but also a resolute determination. ‘Surely these are early days?’ She ventured, glancing nervously around to see if she had any support. ‘The systems are still being set up. They haven’t had time to begin working yet.’

‘I agree,’ the tiny Marlan Bark ruffled her feathers, raised her multi-coloured plume and stared defiantly at Beheggakegri. ‘The new education system isn’t even up and running yet. That could have an effect of the Hydran attitudes.’

‘And we haven’t even removed the entire troublesome element yet,’ the Achec Zenn arranged her facial plates into a frown. ‘I’m interested to see if this programme that Commander Chameakegra and Judge Booghramakegra have dreamed up actually works in the long run.’

‘There are big implications for future operations. It could affect how the process is put in place,’ Debo added.

Beheggakegri stared around disbelievingly. This was an out and out rebellion. That was not what Beheggakegri wanted to hear. The dranglers were not only talking like they wanted to continue the experiment; they were after it affecting the process itself. This had to be cut off before it started to grow.

‘The process has worked brilliantly for hundreds of years,’ Beheggakegri repeated indignantly. ‘I have no intention of putting the Federation at risk. Not on my watch!’ For a moment it looked as if things might deteriorate into a full-blown row.

Sang stepped in quickly, looking to apply all his Solarian diplomacy. Years of working with Beheggakegri had shown him how quickly the volatile Dref could turn volcanic. Reptiles were meant to be cold-blooded but Beheggakegri could erupt into incandescence at the flop of a crest. Sang doused himself with refreshing fluid before interrupting. ‘I can fully understand Beheggakegri’s concerns,’ he said, nodding to the Dref whose crest was now fully raised and whose green tinge revealed his inner displeasure. If that green was allowed to turn white they were all in trouble. ‘Our leader has the interests of the Federation at the heart of everything he does.’

The committee looked bemused. The idea of Beheggakegri putting anything above his joy of eating was laughable. The Federation probably never entered his thinking. Beheggakegri did as little as he could get away with and they all knew it.

‘The scenes we have witnessed are truly disturbing,’ Sang continued, shaking his smooth-featured head in sorrow and giving his integument another douse to alleviate his distress. ‘I can clearly see why our leader thinks these Hydrans might be a threat to our system.’ Sang was relieved to observe that Beheggakegri’s crest was slightly deflating and his coloured had softened into a less outraged yellow. ‘On the evidence we have seen these creatures are violent and loathsome.’ He noted a tinge of blue satisfaction creeping into Beheggakegri’s extremities. He was appreciating Sang’s unexpected support. ‘However, I, and I am sure our leader agrees, acknowledges that the experiment is in its early days and we have a way to go yet.’

The blue tinge faded rapidly and the crest rose again but Beheggakegri did not respond.

‘It wasn’t enough!’ Beheggakegri stormed.

‘That’s hardly my fault,’ Grrndakegra replied, openly regarding the white enraged Dref with a look of annoyance, her own yellowy-green tinge defiantly signalling her own disgust. Her eyes roved across Beheggakegri’s bulging scutes with repugnance. It was fortunate that they were conversing across lightyears of space, in the flesh the repulsion might have proved too much to disguise. At least with the hyperspace link there was no aroma. ‘I delivered what you wanted. There was violence and fury by the ton. It was up to you to sell it to the committee.’

Beheggakegri turned as white as snow, his crest rising. He was not used to being treated with such open contempt. The Commander’s tone was more offensive than the words. When this was all over there would be a reckoning. ‘Just get the job done!’ He snapped off the connection.

The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books

Sci-fi for me is a way to explore the real world and real people. I don’t write space opera. My heroes are Philip K Dick and Robert Sheckley. I like it grounded in insightful realism.

If you are enjoying these excerpts why not purchase the book. It’s available in 3 formats on Amazon.

Here’s the next snippet:

Billy was also caught up in an inferno. Except his was a joy and he was blossoming. The flames of dissent were igniting in his head and being fanned by millions of followers making him feel energised and indestructible. The momentum was building and Billy found himself gathering dissenters like a mighty avalanche careering down a mountainside building as it went. Billy was caught up in it like a fly trapped on a treacle trap, except he was basking in every minute of it. All his time was devoted to the movement – trawling the net, gathering the latest gossip, theories, gripes and information, distilling it into a series of blogs and rants. He’d purchased software and hardware and harnessed Dom the Geek from down the road to set it up. His and Charlene’s bedroom had been transformed into a studio. Now he ran a daily podcast in which he shared his ‘wisdom’. There was no shortage of help. Donations were flooding in. He could afford to do it right – the best cameras and microphones – a real professional job.

Gone were the days of standing on the bar at the Ashley addressing a measly hundred or so, or even holding a meeting at the community centre to address hundreds; he was now on line with an audience in the millions. There wasn’t a hall big enough to accommodate them. Billy had discovered that he had a knack for this podcasting; he just poured out all the stuff he’d picked up and gave it his ‘Smythe charm’. Everyone was suitably impressed at how natural he was – like he’d always played with microphones. Charly had always said he had the gift of the gab.

‘You’re a dark horse,’ Charly chortled. ‘Who’d have thought that you had it in you?’ She was checking out the hits on Billy’s latest rant. The numbers were going through the ceiling.

‘It needs doing,’ Billy replied, a slight modest blush tinging his cheeks. ‘We can’t let these lizards steal out bloody country, Charly.’

‘There’s a lot of people feel the same,’ Charly observed, looking at the latest figures. ‘The trouble is what can we actually do about it?’

‘I’m working on that,’ Billy replied with a smug look on his face.

‘Billy, what are you up to?’

‘We can’t just sit around and moan, can we?’

Charly looked sideways at him. Billy wasn’t a deep thinker. She knew that. He had trouble booking a restaurant for an anniversary surprise.

‘There’s this guy on the web,’ Billy explained. ‘Likes to keep in the background. Some rich geezer. Chucks in most of the readies. He’s as pissed off with the lizards as I am.’

‘And what’s he going to do with anything?’ Charly enquired doubtfully.

‘He’s full of ideas. Things I’d never have thought off. They’re dragging people off to these camps and wiping their brains, you know? The ones they’re not bumping off. He thinks we have to do something about it’

‘I’ve read all that,’ Charly muttered. ‘Don’t know if it’s really true.’

‘It’s true. This guy is sending me stuff. I’ve got the pictures to prove it. They’re ending up like zombies. Their brains wiped clean. He sent me photos. They look like they’re on fentanyl.’

‘And where’s he getting these photos from?’

‘He has contacts.’

She looked at him questioningly. Billy could be a bit gullible at times.

‘I dunno,’ Charly said thoughtfully. ‘They’ve rounded up a right bunch. I never liked the look of that Musk and Farage and their ilk. Glad to see the back of them.’ She chuckled. ‘I don’t even mind if their brains are turned to mush.’

‘Farage is alright,’ Billy protested. ‘A man of the people.’

‘Man of the people my arse,’ Charly sneered. ‘A fucking merchant banker with the gift of the gab who’s jumped on the bandwagon to easy street.’

Billy kept quiet. Farage was one of the few things they disagreed on.

‘So what are the big ideas then?’

‘Well,’ Billy shifted around, ‘protests and stuff.’

‘Protests and stuff?’

‘You know, marches and protests at the camps.’

‘You don’t even know where the camps are.’

‘Yes I do. He’s sent me the details.’ Billy was indignant. ‘There’s one at Clacton. Used to be an old holiday camp and then army base. They’ve taken it all over and put up these huts. He’s sent me photos.’ Billy was enthusiastic.

Charly looked sceptical. ‘What are you going to do there?’

‘We’re gonna march down and have a protest at the camp.’

‘And you’re organising this.’

‘I am,’ Billy said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I’m putting out the stuff this week. I’ve been preparing it.’ He showed Charlene the material he had stashed away in a file on his computer. There was a lot. She trawled through the headlines, photos, posters and details with a wary eye. This looked professional, not at all like Billy’s work. ‘I tell you Charly, we’re putting England at the centre of the whole fucking world!’

‘Looks really impressive,’ Charly remarked with a hint of doubt. ‘What’s all this about trains and busses?’

‘This guy says he will lay on special trains and coaches to take people to the place, even laying on fucking planes to bring people from abroad. We’re expecting thousands,’ he was excited. ‘He’s doing banners and all sorts. All I’ve got to do is publicise it through my blog, stir up interest. He’ll do the rest. Amazing eh?’

Charly fixed him with a wary eye. ‘You be careful you don’t get yourself brain wiped, Billy.’

Chameakegra was in her quarters checking through the material Neff had sent through to her. There were gigabytes of the stuff – all the details on each and every Hydran who had been extracted. The descriptions were graphic, highlighting their personality defects and crimes against humanity.

Judge Booghramakegra was right. This was nuclear. Surely if all this information was released every Hydran would clearly see that they had ample grounds for excising them from society. These people were sick. What they had been doing was criminal. They were the reason the whole world was in such a grave mess.

By removing them Hydran society had an opportunity to heal. People would be able to see that. This could change the balance of opinion. All Hydrans would see why they were doing it.

All that remained to be done was to decide how to release this massive body of material. There was far too much for anyone to read through. But was that necessary? They could dip in to select certain individuals of interest. By seeing the despicable activities of some characters, and having the whole body of information to back that up, they would surely see that the reasons were valid? The guilty ones had to be dealt with.

Even so there remained nagging doubts. Chameakegra had come to realise that many Hydrans were not rational beings. No matter what evidence they were provided with they tended to stick to their own prejudices. That couldn’t be helped. They believed or they didn’t. She had to put that down to the way Hydran’s minds operated. At least a percentage would be won over. She had to hope it was a large percentage. One thing she was sure of was that it could not do any harm. Let some of them believe that it was all made up. There was little she could do about that.  It was no good worrying about lost causes.

So what was the best way to get the information out to the widest audience? That was easy. She would ask Neff to release it to all media outlets and simultaneously send it out on all social media and communication platforms. Let them pick over it and select the morsels they found most interesting.

She set about producing a short introduction to accompany the release:

Dear Hydrans,

I am releasing the raw data that provides the justification for why we have extracted a large number of your citizens. There are a variety of criteria we have applied. Our investigations have been thorough and in depth. We have identified all those guilty of the following crimes against humanity:

Committing or instigating violence

Corruption and bribery

Greed

Racism, sexism and misogyny

Religious and/or political extremism

Indoctrination and brainwashing

Crime

Wanton destruction of the environment

It is our contention that these people are mentally or emotionally ill. Their illness has detrimentally impacted on your society. By removing these antisocial individuals we are enabling your society to heal.

The individuals that we have removed are not being punished; they are being cured of their various illnesses. When their rehabilitation is complete they will be returned to you unharmed and no longer suffering from their antisocial attitudes.

I hope this clarifies our actions for you.

Chameakegra – Commander of the Hydra Mission

When she had completed everything she had a moment’s reflection; should she involve Grrndakegra or Beheggakegri? Grrndakegra was joint Commander. Surely she needed to be updated? Yes. But not before the material had circulated.

She pasted Grrndakegra, Beheggakegri and Judge Booghramakegra into the release. Her claw hovered over it for a second, then the button was pressed, Neff received her instructions and the massive file of documents was on its way.

The political intrigue between aliens mirrors that to be found in human societies:

Chameakegra settled for checking the lunar facilities first. Finding time to fit everything in was proving difficult. She needed to be in ten places at once. An army of Xerc engineers were working on the facilities, burrowing deep into the moon’s substrate, creating rooms, facilities and corridors sufficient to house a small city, necessary to house and treat all the excised Hydrans. By the standards of the Federation, this was not too daunting a task. They had all the tools and materials to facilitate the operation. With the technology available this should not have taken too long to get up and running.

An army of psychiatrists were at hand. Behind the scenes Judge Booghramakegra had lubricated the moving parts to assemble the best.

Chameakegra was greeted at the entrance by loj, a large Minorian. She was familiar with species; Graffa, her second in command on the Neff was a Minorian. He’d always impressed with his calm amphibian manner and efficiency. She was expecting the same.

Loj began the tour, leading her through completed corridors, showing off the idle lavish facilities and introducing staff. It was only when Chameakegra enquired about the date for the facility to be up and running that she began to get the highly aromatic reek of a deceased quiw. Loj began to show signs of agitation and Chameakegra noticed her dousing herself from her hydrating glands. Something was up.

Back in Loj’s office Chameakegra cornered her. ‘Right Loj,’ she demanded, ‘what is going on?’ It came spilling out.

That’s when the real tour began. Roughly hewn corridors, empty rooms, no facilities, Xerc’s standing around with little work being carried out.  It did not take too much to piece it together. They were on a go slow. Loj fired excuse after excuse, unexpected rock formations, instability, cracks, and fissures. None of it made sense and Chameakegra could plainly see Loj’s embarrassment. When asked directly if she was acting on orders from Beheggakegri or Grrndakegra she prevaricated.

Chameakegra returned filled with a seething fury. She had got nowhere and could see that her whole project was being deliberately sabotaged and there was little she could do about it.

Next up were the temporary camps, only intended to house the Hydrans for a short while as they were shuttled off to be treated. She toured the cramped, squalid conditions with their listless inmates, squabbling, infighting and sullen resentment boiling up into hate and fury. Hardly conducive to the rehabilitation she had planned. Nobody could tell her anything. The squalid conditions were a hotbed for everything she was fighting against.

This wasn’t disheartening; this was monumentally horrendous.

Back on the Neff she sat for a moment. Something had to be done. First Booghramakegra. She needed putting in the picture. Quickly her claws rattled across the keyboard filing a report of what she had witnessed along with her suspicions. Then the communicator.

‘Grrndakegra, we need to talk.’ With that she shut down and sat back in her pexi her scutes and crest a deep green sign of outrage.

Chapter 12 – A Reckoning

Ron was a writer, a man who was used to studying people, who was familiar with emotions, psychology and all manner of human behaviour. Understanding character was his trade. But dealing with human beings was one thing; dealing with completely unknown alien reptiles was quite another.

His regular meetings with Chameakegra were beginning to pay dividends. Ron felt that he was beginning to get the measure of her. Despite his initial sense of outrage at feeling he was being used he couldn’t help but start to melt. As he grew more familiar with her mannerisms he began to read her more. What he was becoming more and more certain about was that she was sincere. Slowly his anger melted away to be replaced by a grudging respect. He believed her. He was beginning to be able to read the emotions displayed on her scaly face and interpret the colours that flowed across her skin. He still could not figure out why she had chosen him but, though he kept a small element of doubt alive, he was becoming convinced that she believed what she was saying. She wanted that bright future for them.

That left Ron with a dilemma.

He felt torn.

If Chameakegra believed in him and felt he was the man for the task; if she had a viable vision for the future, one that he could buy into, then wasn’t that worth fighting for? What had he got to lose? Despite the violent scenes he was seeing perhaps it was just as she was saying – a necessary means to an end? Ron was at war with himself but maybe, just maybe it was time to put aside his doubts and fears and fully buy into the dream? That’s what his gut was telling him.

Chameakegra was fuming. Her scutes ran with livid green outrage bleeding into white fury.

Grrndakegra sat back looking supremely relaxed in her pexi. Somehow Chameakegra had kept her composure as she led her through the Neff to her private quarters; she’d even offered her a drink of synth, now Grrndakegra’s total lack of concern was needling her. She had been so sure she could hold it together now she wasn’t so certain after all.

Chameakegra sat opposite Grrndakegra and poured herself a sizeable synth from the servo then sat back, took a deep breath and tried to control her feelings.

Grrndakegra continued to watch her closely, her scutes moving between a thoughtful pink and mauve amusement. She was waiting for what was coming.

‘Where’s this coming from?’ Chameakegra finally asked, fixing Grrndakegra with her flashing green eyes while slowly sipping her synth. ‘It’s Beheggakegri behind this, isn’t it?’

Grrndakegra tried to hide it but Chameakegra noticed a hint of red annoyance creep into Grrndakegra’s scutes.

‘Where’s what coming from?’

Chameakegra glared at Grrndakegra a distinct white rage stealing across her crest.

‘Don’t give me that shit. I’m not stupid. I’ve just come back from the lunar facility after an interesting tour with our friendly Minorian. Loj did her best but she couldn’t hide it forever, could she?’

Grrndakegra sipped her synth and tried to brazen it out. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ her beige scutes displaying a lack of concern.

Chameakegra nodded allowing the white rage to settle over her thorax. It did not hurt for Grrndakegra to know how furious she was. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’ The cold, deliberate delivery gave the words a cutting edge.

Grrndakegra shrugged.

‘I did a tour around the camps,’ Chameakegra continued in measured tone. She left it hanging.

Grrndakegra sipped her synth insolently but Chameakegra could plainly see some yellow annoyance or awkwardness displaying on her scutes. She might feign a lack of concern but inside she was feeling something.

‘Is this some underhand ploy that you and Beheggakegri have dreamed up?’

‘Chameakegra,’ Grrndakegra purred, in a condescending tone, ‘you have to be realistic. These Hydrans are space vermin. They can no more be turned from greed and violence than Beheggakegri can forego his dainties. There’s something deep in their DNA. You’re not going to fix it with all your restructuring and namby-pamby therapy. It runs too deep.’

Chameakegra studied her fellow Giforian with an olive burst of contempt. ‘I never figured you as one of Beheggakegri’s cretinous stooges.

Grrndakegra produced a burst of white anger, like a button had been pressed and some dam inside her head had burst. ‘I’m nobody’s fool and I’m nobody’s stooge,’ she snarled rising to her feet in fury.

Chameakegra stared up at the Giforian towering over her with her crest fully raised and waves of white anger flowing over her scutes. She sipped her synth in a show of indifference while showering the Giforian with disdain, the olive green deepening into a brown shade. ‘That’s exactly what you are.’ The contempt in her voice was thick like cold molasses. ‘You are utterly despicable, worse than that heap of blubber whose anus you are busy licking.’

For a moment it looked as if Grrndakegra, who was now incandescent white from toe to crest, was going to strike her with one of her raised claws. Chameakegra met her gaze and leaned forward, daring her to deliver the blow. ‘You and that piece of drewfus excrement Beheggakegri deserve one another.’

For a moment the claw hung in the air then Grrndakegra turned on her heel, flung the beaker of synth at the wall and stormed out, the portal barely dilating sufficiently to allow her through.